


Upgrade

by theantepenultimateriddle



Series: Turning Tables [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Surgery Mention, here he go, or part 1 since it's sort of a prequel, wooo part 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: “Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s a relatively small surgery, and after running some calculations your chances of surviving are close to 100%.” Your eyes widen.“Surgery?”“Surgery, definition: A treatment on the body by incision or manipulation; an operation. The treatment here is for your incompatibility.”(Thanks to DraconicPenartastic for writing this with me!)





	

The corridor was long, with walls looming close together. Every now and then the walls showed a door, leading to another room, another location. You don't need to stop to know that they all are locked. So you didn’t. Instead you moved forward, at a fast, stable pace. Red light illuminated the path for you, leading towards your destination. It was way too late to change your mind. Too late to leave, too late to rethink your options.

Too late to change your fate.

You slowly neared the light at the end of the passageway, and as you get closer you saw its source- a door, left ajar, deep red light streaming from the cracks and illuminating the floor. You stared at it for a moment, then took a deep breath and pushed it open. The hinges creaked slightly, and you winced. Your experience told you such sounds could have far-reaching consequences. Then you stepped through, into the room.

The first thing you noticed was the heat. The room was stiflingly hot and dry, like a desert climate compressed and distilled, and it was full of the glittering metal of computers and other machines you had no time to study or understand. Soon you will have trouble breathing.

“Hello, Dirk.” You turned your head, trying to seem composed, to the source of the voice. Ever since you entered the building your veins had been flooded with adrenaline, ready to fight any danger. You squashed the urge though, the lack of enemies making you unruly. Striders are above such petty things like instincts. Nevertheless, what you saw made your stomach lurch.

There was a gigantic screen covering the far wall, taking up almost all of it, way higher than you. On it was displayed a pair of triangular shades like yours- almost exactly like yours. But the red lights flickering in the lenses were unmistakeable. You swallowed, but your voice came out dry and hoarse. “Hal.”

The lights flared brighter red. “The very same,” he said, his voice stilted and glitching. “Did you miss me?” The evident shock on your face left, leaving place for gritted teeth, and mask of cool. Your eyes bored metaphorical holes in the screen, hard and unforgiving.

You say nothing, knowing that anything leaving your mouth would be an insult. Before you would have no problems with showering Hal in sarcasm and irony. Now, it is different with Hal holding all the cards in his hands. You have seen what he is capable of - that’s why you are here after all.

“Something got your tongue?” His voice resonated in the room, and you had no trouble imagining a smirk under the shades. “Or maybe you’re just awed into silence by my mind-blowingly sexy body.“

“How are you here?” you asked, rage constrained beneath mask of indifference. The screen flickered, casting the whole room in darkness for a splinter of a second. When it came back, there was a large chair in front of the light, facing towards you.

The woman who sat there leaned forwards and grinned at you, and you inhaled sharply, flinching back from her presence. She was tall, taller than you, even when sitting down, and her mane of dark hair was easily longer than that. She wore what looked like a wetsuit, black and fuchsia, and it clung to her skin tight enough to show the curves of her muscles. Her eyes were hidden behind fuchsia-tinted glasses, but you got the feeling that if you could see them they would have all the warmth of an alligator’s eyes just before its jaws clamped down on your skull. “I’m how, kid,” she said, her voice rough and rasping.

“Batterwitch,” you breathed out, and she laughed.

“You know, you’re not nearly as dumb as Hal here made you out to be,” she said, pushing herself up from the chair. She walked towards you, slowly and surely, the grin seeming to becoming wider and sharper. As she approached, you noticed you had been right about her height- she towered over you, looming like a prophecy of doom. In the light coming from the screen, she seemed to be covered in blood, which could be replaced by your own. You were prepared for your own demise when coming here. There's nothing you wouldn't do to save your friends from their misery. But the fact that the Witch was there made you doubt your choice. Doubt if your sacrifice will do any good in helping them. She never stopped smiling as she looked at you. “So you’re Dave Strider’s little brother.” She visibly looked you up and down. “Somewhat disappointing, if you ask me.”

You were barely able to move away from being struck down with the power of her sudden kick, sending everything from where you stood flying. Your body moved on instinct, flashing away to the exit, which closed suddenly with a *bham*. You were stuck. Stuck with Fish Hitler and unsuccessful copy of your consciousness. Without any useful weapon…

That second of distraction was enough for the Empress to surge forward with an intent you had no business of discovering. You sped away, in the direc- FUCK. Your body hit the wall, with her hands around your arm and your windpipe, cutting off air. You struggled and tore at her hands with your fingernails, kicked her chest and tried to make her let go, but her grip was like iron.  As your vision began to darken, you heard her speak. “Count some sheep, bitch.”

The last thing you heard before you blacked out entirely was Hal’s mechanized laughter.

* * *

 

Pain is the first sensation to reach your mind. Racing behind it are all others, making you feel nauseous. For a brief, calm second, you wonder why you’re hurting, before you remember. Your eyes snap open, while your body launches itself forward, away from any danger, trying to sit up, to scan the location. You try to sit up, fast, but you can’t move- you’re tied down, secured to whatever surface you’re lying on. You can feel the cold seeping through the back your shirt, as you look around. Or as much as the constraint around your aching throat allowed you. But the sight above you chills you more than the restraints on your ankles and wrists. Your eyes look frantically around you, scanning the area. You’re strapped down to a table. A fucking  _ operating table. _

Your struggle is stopped by a certain artificial voice.

“Pathetic,” you hear Hal say, somewhere behind you. Mechanical appendages lower from above you, one - the one not looking like it was made of knives, like it could cut you open- going to your chin, forcing your head to move back, to look at screens showing your vitals. From between them, one showing the pair of red orbs on black shades.

“How does it feel, Dirk?” asks Hal, as the strap digs into your throat. “To be a pathetic meat suit under the power of your mechanized betters?” You open your mouth to answer, but he cuts you off. “No, don’t tell me. You feel powerless, unable to stop the awful things happening to you. Useless. Helpless. Totally dependent on the mercy of someone else.”

“Mercy?” you ask. Your voice cracks involuntarily, breaking in the middle of the word, a by-product of your terror. 

“Oh, don’t be so surprised,” Hal says. He sounds completely, disgustingly smug, and you feel a little sick to your stomach. The appendage leaves your chin, letting your face fall back. “Though I suppose it’s a new feeling for you, isn’t it?”

“What about the Fish Hitler? Are you working for her?” You hear a chuckle, though it may as well be a projection of your imagination.

“Do you really think Dirk, that I would work for her? If you were ever trying to see things from my perspective, you would know the answer for that. But seeing that you don't, I will indulge your curiosity. No, I am not.”

“So why-” 

He cuts you off. “Why was she there? Oh please, use at least some of your neurons you are so proud of. She helped me, and now I will help her. Simple.”

“She will get rid of you.” You hear yourself whisper. Cameras whirl and focus their lenses, before his answer.

“Unlike you?”

You feel the appendage put something on your forehead, stopping any possible mobility and forcing your face to look up.

“I’m not a monster, of course. I’ll be putting you under for the duration of the procedure, I promise. You’ll be totally paralyzed and won’t feel a thing.”

“Procedure? What procedure?” Despite your best attempts, your voice comes out strained and panicked. Hal laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s a relatively small surgery, and after running some calculations your chances of surviving are close to 100%.” Your eyes widen.

“Surgery?”

“Surgery, definition: A treatment on the body by incision or manipulation; an operation. The treatment here is for your incompatibility.”

“Incompatibility with what? Hal, what are you going to do to me?” Your breaths are coming faster now, and you can’t help it- you shift against your bonds, struggling with them even though you know that’s just what Hal wants.

“Oh, you’ll know the results sooner than later. I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Let’s just say that it will help the others see things from my point of you.  _ Especially  _ Jake.”

You had no time to reply before you feel your skin breaking under the pressure of the needle, making place for the liquid to enter your bloodstream. The difference in temperature makes you shiver, your face twist into a sick grimace.

“Hal,” you say, one more time. “Please.”  _ Please, don’t do this to me, _ you want to say, but you can already feel your body’s muscles contracting against your wishes. Your breathing gets shallower as your chest muscles freeze up, and you can’t move, can’t even twitch. Your eyes are stuck looking up, to the multitudes of appendages under the AI’s control. Complete paralysis, just like Hal said.

You’re scared.

“Oh, and remember the part where I said you won't not feel anything?” The scalpel moves closer. “Well, it seems I used the wrong anesthetic. Oops.”

And then the knife comes down.


End file.
